In the beginning
by MLaw
Summary: An agent and his quarry; the chase leads to a revelation.


He was tailing his quarry through the darkest and most dangerous streets of London, but that didn't matter as he had to catch the man. It was a relentless game of cat and mouse that went on for hours.

He'd followed him now to Tower Bridge, moving quickly up the stairs to the the high-level open air walkways between the towers. They'd been closed to the public for so long, having gained a reputation as a haunt for prostitutes and pickpockets, but that didn't stop either man.

A shot rang out, ricocheting off the metal cross beam of the walkway, sending him down to the flooring where he returned fire with his weapon of choice, an American Smith & Wesson snub nose nickle plated .38 police special. The snub-nose did have a greater recoil than a standard revolver but he was accustomed to it.

Anyone would be not have been hard pressed to substitute for a .45 calibre Ballester-Molina; Special Branch had just acquired such weapons with the help of the Americans, but he simply liked the feel of his revolver. It was like an old friend, though one he really didn't like to bring out and use on another human being.

Operatives of SIS, also known as MI6, were trained in the use of many types of guns, usually captured enemy weapons before being sent into enemy-occupied territory. Ordinary agents were also armed with handguns acquired abroad, such as a variety of American pistols, and a large quantity of the Spanish Llama .38 ACP.

Few people were aware of the organization's existence. To those who were part of it, it was sometimes referred to as the Baker Street Irregulars, after the location of its London headquarters. Some called it 'Churchill's Secret Army' or the 'Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare.' For security reasons, different branches, and sometimes the organization as a whole, were concealed behind names such as the Joint Technical Board or the Inter-Service Research Bureau. At times it seemed as though one needed a dance card to keep track of them all.

"Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare," Alexander Waverly mumbled to himself.

"Why did it have to be ungentlemanly? There had to be a better way than using bullets and such to stop one's quarry."

Waverly heard approaching footsteps on the metal flooring; somehow his target had doubled back around him. His intuition told him it couldn't be anyone else. Waverly always had a sixth sense about things.

A second later his suspicions were confirmed; he felt pain as a bullet stuck him. He was thrown sideways against the railing and staggered, but still he had one last ounce of strength to raise his pistol and fire.

The dull thud of a body hitting the metal flooring told him he'd succeeded. Holding his breath for a moment; he heard nothing but the distant sounds of the city, and the Thames below. His aim had been true and a madman had been stopped. Alexander was not a man to surrender, but if this be the last thing he ever did, he could die with the satisfaction knowing it was a job well done.

"Good bye dear gal. We'll meet again," he whispered his farewell to his wife. Closing his eyes; he sank into darkness as he too dropped to the floor.

When he awoke, Waverly sensed he was moving. As he opened his eyes he looked up he saw a wondrous sight of perhaps a hundred golden orbs, they looked like globes or the world perhaps?

They twinkled, suddenly reminding him that it was still Christmas time. He was alive, he'd survived and he'd return to his beloved wife Estelle after all, that he knew now.

His eyes focused again on the lights. There was something about those shapes above him that drew his eyes to them as he wondered what they were; the emergency ambulance attendants had somehow whisked him beneath a large Christmas decoration.

Thousands of bulbs were wired to a frame in the shape of an immense Christmas tree, with what he perceived as vectors...were the immense ornaments.

Still that shape fascinated him. It seemed like a symbol of the world in a way. And as Alexander Waverly was loaded onto the ambulance a fleeting thought hit him; there had to be something better than MI6. This chasing after evil-doers one by one only to have them replaced by another was most frustrating, especially when they'd escape to another country out of MI6's jurisdiction.

Something more international...world wide in scope and unencumbered by politics. A peacekeeping organization with trained agents like MI6 perhaps, to keep evil at bay.

Those shapes that he now had a better view of would make a smashing logo, a vector of the world perhaps?

Alexander Waverly closed his eyes as he was loaded into the ambulance and would think more on it...


End file.
